May in Oregon

Beth had surgery on her foot, so we haven't been walking for awhile. She is healing so we are walking a little more each day now. It was raining this morning, but we took raincoats and umbrellas and found it was clean and wonderful out there in the rain. Perfect weather for ducks.

Drawing

I think drawing is a skill most artists need. It is good to be able to draw a recognizable object, but even more important regular drawing is constant practice at seeing and observing and discovering the character and essence of the visual world. I always think I will spend some time every day drawing and I seldom make the time to do that. I have been talking with a couple friends about drawing and developing that discipline and I decided to start a drawing blog.

My hope is that there will be people who will join me and start drawing or continue to draw along and share what they are doing. I'm not an expert, but I have been drawing for a long time and will share what I know. I'm pretty excited about this! Check it out here.

Can I hear a "woo hoo!"

I think one of the most affirming things that can happen to an artist is to sell a piece. It has been a good month for me. I had work in the show at the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral a couple weeks ago and sold two of my wall pieces and 5 small bin pieces. Then tonight I got word that my piece that has been traveling with the "Deep Spaces" exhibit was just sold. Here is the piece, "Deep in the Forest."

It is a strange, but good feeling to know that my work is "out there" somewhere and I hope giving pleasure to someone.

We meet the Metolius River

When we left Black Butte Ranch Friday morning to head home from our retreat, we took a small detour off the main road to see the head of the Metolius River. Gerrie had been told she should go there since we were in the area, so we were all game. We parked at the information area. It was a fairly short walk through the ponderosa pines down to where the river emerges from the earth. The day was beautiful and the soft sunlight filtering through the dense forest took the edge off the chilly mountain air.

The Metolius comes out of the ground as springs in the dark area of the photo below, and quickly widens into a river that bubbles over rocks and winds into the forest.

From there we drove a few miles to the little community of Camp Sherman where the river rolls through. Here is the the Camp Sherman store. We bought supplies for a picnic for further down the road. It is a charming little store that is well equipped and has a large section of fishing supplies in the back.

From in front of the store you see beautiful cabins along the river.

We were all so enchanted by this little piece of paradise that we decided to check into renting a cabin here for our next retreat.

I love these yearly retreats. Now I am home, and glad to be, but grateful for that time with my friends and change of scene. I think we all need that.

PS  For those who are curious about such things, the white flowering bushes in the river photos are Syringa, also called Mock Orange, which is a wild relative of lilac. Also the state flower of Idaho. The tall trees are Ponderosa Pine, which are very fragrant, beautiful trees with an unusual patterned bark. The plant in the store photo with the red-tinged leaves and yellow blossoms is Oregon Grape, the state flower of Oregon.

In the Woods

Late yesterday I got home from three days with my friends at our yearly STASH retreat. This year we went back to the house at Black Butte Ranch where we were a couple years ago. I organized a surface design project for us just so we would not feel too relaxed! We experimented with paste resist on fabric, which we then painted. It was a good kind of project for a several day long retreat since there are steps that require drying time between. We could do step 1, then leave it to dry and go off on some adventure of sightseeing, or shopping or eating. Eating was big.


Step one: Mix up paste and spread it on fabric in a thin layer. We used a combination of rice flour and wheat flour. Some were left with a simple paste layer, others we marked into the paste with various tools. The unmarked pieces will, with any luck, become allover crackle patterns.

Suzy, Gale and Gerrie here, spreading the pancake batter-ish goo on their fabric. Then we took them out to the deck and spread them out to dry and went off to the Black Butte Lodge for an incredible dinner with the sun setting behind the view of spectacular mountains, lake, golf course and ponderosa pines. A couple of the group with foot surgery and medical issues drove to the Lodge and the rest of us walked. The walk was beautiful, but our memories were faulty concerning how far it was, plus we were confused about walking to a different restaurant two years ago that was a much shorter walk, so we were quite late for our reservation and dragging our butts by the time we finally arrived, but were soon refreshed by wine and really just wonderfully memorable food and good conversation and lots of laughing.

Step two: The next morning we "cracked" our dry pasted fabrics, then painted over the tops with acrylic and fabric paints—the plan being that the paint seeps into the cracks and marks onto the fabric and the rest of the fabric is protected from the paint by the paste resist.

 

Reva and Beth are painting over the dried paste resist.

Again, we spread them out on the sunny deck to dry and headed into Bend for another adventure. We found Starbucks and then a beautiful quilt shop that we had never been to before. We were happy to leave a few dollars at Quiltworks and bring home some beautiful fabrics and threads. Our lunch at the Pine Tavern turned into a marathon. We waited for more than an hour for our food, but it was outstanding once it arrived and they apologized for the delay with complimentary desserts. Again, plenty of good, often hilarious conversation. We do the eating/conversation part so well!

Step three: When we got back to Black Butte our creations were dry and we began the arduous task of cracking and scraping the dried paste off our fabrics. The paste can be removed more easily by soaking the piece in water overnight and then washing the remaining paste out, but we did not want to make a big gooey mess in the rental house or try to dispose of all that gummy, sticky wet paste. And—we wanted to be able to see what our fabrics looked like before we left. So we scraped with a spoon and picked with our fingers and revealed at least some of each piece to admire. Soaking and finishing will happen back home.

Here are areas with resist removed.

Pretty great, huh? It was fun and exciting to see the results. I think we all got a lot of ideas about how to improve the process and inspiration to try variations. Can't wait to see what we do with these fabrics.

It was a great getaway with friends—wine, good food, laughs, stories, games of Draw Something and Mexican Train and the beauty of the pines and the aspens and the mountains of the High Desert country of Oregon.

I feel refreshed.

The man cave

We've been laughingly referring to my old sewing space as "the man cave" or "the rumpus room" (how's that for an antiquated term?) since I moved out and Ray started getting the room fixed up. It will occasionally house guests, but it is mostly Ray's place to get away and make noise. I think I'll call it "the music room" because that sounds so very refined.

Ray has been a drummer since he was a teenager and played in school bands and marching bands and, when we were first married, in rock bands. In those days I was often the "roady" who helped haul drums and set them up and break them down. I know how to set up a drum kit. When we lived in Ashland he played drums with a bagpipe band and wore a kilt. Hubba hubba! In Ashland he also got together with a bunch of old guys at the Elks Hall where they played old big band music just for the fun of it. We called that one "the old man's band." Here in Portland he played music for awhile, but finally sold most of his drums and packed the rest away. Yesterday they came out of storage.

Cool African drum. It sounds wonderful. I love seeing the drums and percussion stuff again. I know how happy music makes Ray. I hope to be hearing some rumpus coming from the man cave.

Shopping

I used to be a good shopper. An enthusiastic shopper. I used to be well-dressed and relatively stylish. Something has happened. I have become my mother who hated to shop. She would grind her teeth and roll her eyes and moan and despair. It was embarrassing and now I am doing the same thing.

I know what the problem is. It is that I shop now because I am looking for something. Something specific that I need/want. I am not shopping opportunistically as I once did, where you just regularly browse the favored stores and you see something, quite by accident, that speaks to you. Good stuff, I have determined, must be found by accident, not by purpose.

My birthday was last month and my daughter gave me a Macy's gift card, which was such a thoughtful gift and I thought, "how great! I will use it to buy a new lightweight jacket." So I headed out to Macy's and then another Macy's and then another. That is the thing about Macy's. They are the store that ate all the real stores—the ones we loved. For me it was Meier and Frank and before that, The Bon Marche. Now they are all Macy's and Macy,s, let's be truthful here, just isn't the same as those old beloved stores. But Macy's is what we have now. And they did not have a jacket for me. Nope. Not even close. What I had in mind was something unlined in cotton duck or canvas or denim or some such. Not black. I already own all the black jackets in the world. A color. Not Navy either, and preferably not gray. Remember Barn Jackets that were popular about 10 years ago? Something like that.

But not beige.

Since they did not have my jacket, I wandered through Macy's looking at other things. I found a pair of yellow shoes I liked. I've never owned yellow shoes! They did not have my size. Nor did any of the other Macy's stores I went to. Nor did Macy's online. I bought a coral colored summer shirt instead. It will probably become my favorite shirt ever. See how that works? It was not what I was looking for.

Then I went to every other store in the mall to look for a jacket. Then I left the mall and went to all the other stores. And I didn't find a jacket. And by then I was doing a fine imitation of my mother, whining and moaning and dragging myself around like a cranky old lady.

So I went to the fabric store. The only fabric that seemed possible was a pretty strange color—kind of purpley berry color. It wasn't black. I bought it. I bought buttons and thread. I could not find a pattern. I took it all home and made a copy of an old jacket I kind of liked, except made it a little longer and made the sleeves long enough to roll up a cuff. And I made my own damned jacket. And here I am wearing it with my new coral shirt and my new yellow shoes, which I finally ordered online, but not from Macy's.

 I still have about $25 left on my Macy's gift card.

The earth and spring

This place where we live really comes alive this time of year. Especially when the sun shines. I step outside in the evening and the sound of frogs is raucous and insistent. By the sound of it there are hundreds of little frogs in close proximity to the house. I love the sound. It is cheerful and lively and goes hand in hand with a sweet, green fragrance of springtime. The volume and variety of the sound makes me think I should be able to look out and see frogs hopping all over the lawn, but no. It is rare to see the little frogs and seems like such a treat to spot one. See how perfectly this little guy I saw today matches his background.

They are probably all around me, blending nearly perfectly into the background.

The other day I looked out the studio window to spot a possum waddling quickly down the driveway. Not so fond of the possums. Ray found a slender little snake coiled in the bottom of a flowerpot the other day. They startle me in the grass occasionally, but I like to think they are keeping the mosquitoes and other bugs at bay. Yes, suddenly the place seems alive with creatures and flowers and wonderful green everywhere.

I have finished the second of the "Elements" pieces. This is earth.

I have no ideas for water and air. I joked that air might just be a blank white piece—not!

This weekend my work will be in a show/sale at the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral. I am looking forward to seeing the whole show and hope to sell something. Next week the STASH group is going to Central Oregon for our annual retreat. I am starting to gather my projects and supplies to take along. Meanwhile, I love the sunshine and am on the lookout for frogs as I come and go around the house and studio. I know they are out there. I hear them.

Helvetia Tavern

I'm not sure why, but the wives were invited along on the latest Burger Project foray today. We were happy to be included. Ten of us headed out in search of a great burger. Destination—The Helvetia Tavern.

Way the heck out in the country. This was the view across the road.

The guys usually go out on Saturdays and try out different burger joints. Howard, the instigator, compiles their ratings and writes up the review on his blog. I made business cards for them. Howard says now that they have business cards they are "kind of a big deal." Howard gets a kick out of life in general and is easily impressed.

The Helvetia Tavern seems to have been there for awhile. Norm thought they had some decorator come out and hang up all the baseball caps on the ceiling and silly signs on the walls. Norm is a skeptic. I think the decor evolved. I think a decorator would have done a "better" job and would have ruined the rustic charm. I like the organic approach to Tavern decor.

The official tallies will be up on Howard's blog later this week. The wives did not vote, but if I had I would have said the burgers were awesome. The secret sauce was awesome. The generous serving of pickles was awesome. The bacon was awesomely crispy. The beer was awesome. The fries were beyond awesome. The company was awesome. The ram across the road was awesome. The drive through the rolling green fields to get there was super awesome.

Such an ordinary week...

that I have very little of what Ray calls "blog fodder." Not much of great interest going on around here. Which, given all the possibilities, is probably good news. Spring seems to have finally arrived. Flowers and rain—rain and more flowers. Spring in Portland. It is beautiful and wet.

Remember a couple of months ago I wrote about a young man being murdered in front of my grocery store and the sad, dreary memorial that was growing in front of the store? This evening I parked at the grocery store just in front of where the memorial had been and saw that it was gone. In its place is a jazzy red bench and the bike rack next to it has been painted to match.

Closer inspection shows a plaque attached naming it as a memorial to the murder victim.

Someone had left a pansy blossom below the plaque. This warmed my heart. What a lovely way to remember someone, with a beautiful bench where the elderly store patrons can wait for their ride, or store employees can take a break and enjoy a cup of coffee in the sunshine. So much better than wilting flowers and ratty, wet Teddy bears. In coming years people will probably wonder who Ryan Lee Johnson was and how he died so young and perhaps never have to know what an ugly scene this was on one cold, rainy day in the winter of 2012. Rest in Peace, Ryan Johnson. Rest in Peace.

And inside the store I spotted these radishes. They looked so extra red and beautiful that I had to bring them home.

Spring. Don't you love it? The world just seems new and shiny all over again.

I took the weekend off

It has been a nice couple of days and I have not been in the studio. I helped my daughter with the Saturday morning swimming lesson routine, then stopped to check out a huge neighborhood yard sale I had noticed earlier on my way to the swim classes. I strolled from yard to yard, purchasing a bag of binder clips for .25 and perusing the books—I have to say I am always rather shocked by the trash people read! I never find good books, except for the time I found the cute little bartenders guide, but I always look. Then I spotted a rug, all folded up on a table full of old sheets and towels and what I could see made my heart skip a beat, so I unfolded it to find a beautiful Mexican Zapotec wool rug. Hand woven. Warm, wonderful colors.

I can't tell you how much this is my kind of thing! (Well, if you have read this blog for long, you already know that.) It was in perfect condition and priced at $9 and I did not think twice. It was mine. As I carried it back to my car a couple of women stopped me to admire it and an elderly man called out across the street, "nice find!"

When I got home I carried it back to where Ray has been diligently converting my old sewing room into a place for him to hang out and play music/guest room. It looks perfect with the green wall he painted and the new fake wood floor. How often the universe seems to provide just the thing I didn't even know I needed.

The elements - Earth

Fire is finished. I have been working on "earth". Here are some phone photos of the quilting I worked on yesterday. Intense quilting, but it makes such a difference.

Here I am stitching on some bulbs. Amazing, to me, that a few lines of stitching takes them from flat and, well, ugly, to a real approximation of a dimensional bulb.

Bulbs, roots, leaves and grass done. Now I am working on layers of soil and little rocks.

What kind of bulbs? Agapanthus.

Waiting for birds

Lucky me! I have been given two wonderful birdhouses. The first was a birthday gift from my friend, Beth. Beautiful teardrop shaped ceramic birdhouse. I hung it from a tree limb next to the creek. I can see it from the yard and the studio. So pretty!

Then my friend Muriel came to visit yesterday and brought me this crazy chicken birdhouse.

It is painted wood and I thought it best if it was somewhat protected from the elements so I hung it on the porch of the studio. I know the proximity of the studio and greenhouse might discourage birds, but I have had birds nesting near my front door before. I also wonder if the big, giant chicken might scare them off! I hope not. I love this guy.

These join the wonderful birdhouse my neighbor gave us and their gorgeous birdhouses. I think birds might feel very welcome here and will have a nice variety of homes to choose from.

C'mon, birds! We are ready for you—

Cracked: the secret sauce

Continuing with my flour paste resist experiments. I  tried both wheat flour and rice flour. They were different, and each had strong points and weak points. This time around I tried a mixture of both rice and wheat flours in equal quantities.

I pawed through my stash and found this lovely piece of fabric. I don't know where it came from—perhaps one of my dyeing or painting experiments, or perhaps something I bought.

It is laying on my painting board. I had a good feeling about this round.

I glooped on my mixture of half rice flour, half wheat flour, mixed with enough water to make it about the consistency of pancake batter.

Using my small squeegee, it spread nicely and did not pull up in sections like the rice flour paste did.

I let it dry for about ten minutes until it would hold a line when I marked into it with a bamboo skewer.

I let this dry well, cracked it a bit and then painted it and let it dry. It dried with some dimension as the all-rice paste had and was nearly as easy to remove as the rice paste. I removed most of the paste dry. Here it is with most of the paste removed. I really love it.

I will let it cure a bit, heat set the paint and then wash out the residue of the paste. This is my favorite. The combination of rice and wheat flour had the best properties of both—the spreadability and elasticity of the wheat flour paste and the bolder pattern and easier to remove qualities of the rice flour paste. I will take both kinds of flour to our retreat and let my friends choose. I will certainly recommend the mix.

Answering some comments:

1. In response to Gerrie, who commented that thickened dye might work better. (Unfortunately I deleted her comment accidentally—one of the hazards of moderating comments on my iPhone) Back in my batik days I used dyes with flour paste resist and they worked great! For this project I was looking for a way to achieve good results on our retreat without the mess and longer process of dyeing. With the exception of the paint that I diluted too much, I am pretty happy with what can be done with paint.

2.  Del wondered why I was using acrylic paint instead of dye or fabric paints. Regarding dye, see above. Regarding acrylic paint—fabric paints are acrylic paints. Fabric paints supposedly have some additives that keep them softer than traditional acrylics. I have both and mix and interchange them without noticeable differences. The paints I used for these experiments include both.

3. Jean S. suggested a bench scraper would be a larger working scraper than a credit card for removing the dried paste from the fabric. Since fabric is not a solid surface for scraping and dried paste is not as malleable as greasy goo, the scraping process is a little different. I found that even my credit card was a little too large to work very efficiently and the best tool that I finally settled on was a spoon, using the edge to scrape. It is a matter of finding something that will catch the edges of the cracked surface and pop those pieces off the fabric. Most tutorials and instructions I found recommended soaking the pasted fabric in water and scrubbing the softened paste off. I tried that and it was icky messy and difficult to get it out of the fabric once it was wet and sticky. The rice flour does not stick as tightly as the wheat flour, so it is relatively easy to crack off most of the dried paste, then scrape off the more persistent chunks.